


Home

by Nachtblume



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-14 02:49:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4547295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nachtblume/pseuds/Nachtblume
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The stucky feels just attacked at the end-credit scene of Antman. This is a shorter, angst version of what I wrote on my new tumblr :D</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home

Everything’s fine now.  
That’s what Steve tells himself over and over in his head. His arms sag with the extra weight of a man hanging on, desperate, weighing more than ever with sadness and pain and so much darkness.  
A fumble for his keys, he fishes them out and nearly drops the whole bunch, barely catching the ring with a finger. The flesh hand on his shoulder tightens just slightly, not even applying pressure but the searing pain reaches his arteries and pierces his insides. So it may be like taking in a stray cat from now on. You feed it, wash it, take care of it, it occasionally mewls but most of the time, stares at you blankly. Try to pet it, it may jump, attempt to run, or if it feels like it, stay put with the same blank stare as always.  
“Going in?” The hoarse voice could barely be heard in the empty corridor. A small puff of air brushes by his ear and he barely stops the shiver crawling up from his toes.  
Ah yes, going in. The key in his hand turns itself, the action barely registered in his tangled brain. The door swings open, the apartment of Steve Rogers is basked in the golden light of sunset. The apartment looks uninhabited. A few pieces of furniture, all in the same tone of russet, sporting shadows like creeping tendrils across the empty space. The sink of the open kitchen is spotless, the white glinting in both shadow and light. No plates in sight, not a cupboard open.  
Emptiness.  
He clears his throat.  
“We’re home.”  
“Home?”  
“Yeah. Home.”  
The weight on his arm is gone, staggering a bit before standing upright. He watches his childhood friend, comrade, gingerly put his dirt-smudged duffel bag on the floor and fold the bundle of greasy hair and tiredness he is, into the sofa. The metallic glint of his fingers peeking out of that red sweater heightens into pure gold, tapping on the sofa once. Twice.  
“Sit?”  
Steve double-takes. That is addressed to…… him?  
Fingers tap the sofa again, and he rushes over, nearly throwing himself into the softness of leather and cotton. He comes into contact with metal and the coldness seeps into his veins. He sees dark eyes boring into his own, as if daring him to jump, let go, retreat the hand. He doesn’t. Not even when they are both frozen in ice, in time, in heart. Not now. Not ever. He gently cradles the hand, feeling the metal warm with his temperature. The metal whirs, somehow like a cat purring.  
“We’re home, Buck. It’s okay.”  
“Home.”  
Whether it’s a repetition or a statement, he couldn’t tell.

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is http://vergissmeinnichtuniverse.tumblr.com/  
> Might post all sorts of stuff on it since I'm trying it out (finally!) and with this piece, the version on tumblr has a fluffy ending :P  
> Tell me what you think!


End file.
